


Good Girls Go Bad

by vicnic90



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author is Team Tony, Author is primarily Stony writer, F/M, Hurt Vision, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Hydra isn't all that bad, Hydra!Wanda, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protect Tony Stark 2k16, its late, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicnic90/pseuds/vicnic90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of The Superhero Civil War, Wanda had decided to find her happiness again. That may be in the arms of Hydra. </p>
<p>"We were finally doing what we said we always would and it felt...great. Hydra wasn’t all bad, they were just an organization like any other. Fighting and trying for what they believed in, even if some thought it was backwards. There were good people, people with families and children. People like any other faction. It wasn’t all bad.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Girls Go Bad

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Wanda/Vision. This idea came to me a while back while I was pondering Wanda's time in Hydra. There is an undercurrent of Steve/Tony that wasn't elaborated on, because I can't have a story that doesn't have them in somehow, I'm sorry. The idea for the second scene comes from another story I read where it was unknown if Team Steve knew about the fight in Siberia. This is unbeta read, so all mistakes are mine. Thank you and please enjoy!

Music poured from every crack of the pitiful pub shack, leaking out into the dead of night from every orifice. Drunk Irish men and women stumbled out the rusted front door into waiting taxis or friend’s cars. No matter how many people left, the crowd was still thick. People filled every booth and barstool. 

Pubs were meant for having a good time, getting with a group of confidents and complaining about the 9 to 5 routine hell that normal people found themselves stuck in, maybe even doing something wild and crazy to regret in the morning light. Something to remember, a memory to leave.

Memories.

There seemed to be too many of those left for Wanda. Memories haunted her in every scene, things that happened years and miles away were reenacted before her eyes in unfamiliar places. The catch of white hair causing her to see him one last time where he should never be, somewhere he never was. The resonance of a woman’s laughter so real to that of a ghost’s making her remember the way her mother use to throw her head back in fits of laughter from something that one of her twins told her, maybe a story from their school day. Memories were hell. 

She sat in a lone booth in the corner of the pub, exactly where she could see everyone. Leaving herself so open went against all of her training from the Avenger’s. Natasha taught her to blend in, to find an empty seat at the bar and order a drink. Act like she just got off of work. Not to sit at a large, empty booth by herself with no drink in front of her. People would look, would see, notice something different than the norm.

But this time she wasn’t hiding. 

The group of boys from the university finally convince their friend to go talk to the lonely girl, it seemed. The way the group kept eyeing her table then the cheers as one parted from the crowd and made his way towards her. His face was schooled into a handsome, winning smile that almost no girl could resist.

“Now, what is a girl like you doing in a place like this, beautiful,” his thick accent rolled off his tongue just as well as the cheesy line did, obviously rehearsed. 

She didn’t mask her accent, let her proud heritage flow through her words, “Avoiding boys like you.” She didn’t have time for games, but it would get the notice of the goon standing by unmarked door in the back of the pub. Only few people came in and came out, mostly sleazy men in black and they were let right through like regulars. 

“I mean no offense, lady, just wondering if I could offer you a drink,” this kid just didn’t know when to stop. Kid. A loose term given they seemed to be only a few years apart in age. Probably some local boy, studying at the university, comes from a good family and a good community. He is what Pietro could have been, but never got the chance between tumbling buildings and graveside funerals. Revenge is an all consuming fire, mostly for the what could have beens. The what ifs in life were eaten away by a ravaging flame labeled revenge. It is like guilt in that way. 

“Leave me, please. I am not interested.” her voice was gentle now, he only meant well she knew. He only was trying to be polite and didn’t deserve her harsh words and misdirected anger. 

He only nodded and with no flare, left her be but his attention had drawn the attention of the security detail at the door also. He know eyed her expectantly, obviously trying to put the face to at memory. 

Now is the time, all eyes that mattered are on her. She left her table, standing proud and tall as she made her way straight to the guard. “Restrooms are to your left ma’am,” to be in Ireland he lacked an accent. American, obviously. He stood out such as she had. “I’m not looking for the restroom. I wish to speak to your boss.” The smirk he presented showed he didn’t take her seriously. 

When door knob turned surrounded by her abilities, he paled. His understanding became apparent and he chickened out by leaving his post. “Thank you,” she thanked the air where he use to stand while he currently was hightailing it out of there. Coward. 

The other side of the door was dark, black with lack of light. Definitely made for regulars, must be easy to follow in the dark. Her hearing took over then, helping lead her down the intricate hallways and stairways in the bowels of the small pub. Women in revealing outfits lounged against creaky beds in some rooms, looking for their next John. Other rooms held people taking hits of highly illegal drugs, other passed out on the floor from too much already. It was all...basic, lowly criminal dealings. There was no remnants of the high faction she use to know, power didn’t run through the walls. Pulsing with it. Throbbing with true power, power of influence and ability. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. 

The hallways finally lead to the heart of the maze, a large damp opening. The walls covered in earthy stones, moss lined the entry ways. Giggling came from a door to her right, not a sound anywhere else. Bingo. 

Shreeks resonated in the small office as the blonde jumps off the barrel of a man’s lap, grabbing the closest item to cover herself. Now she has dignity. “Get out,” Wanda commanded the women, giving her no option as red tentacles dripped from her hands and encircled her wrists. Blondie left quickly after gather up her clothes, running as fast as her heels would allow from the dank office. 

“Oi! Can’t a man enjoy a woman in peace around here!” He faced away from the brunette as he fixed his trousers to be roughly presentable. He faced her again when he heard the door slam shut and lock clicked. 

“I want back in,” perfect, practice words filled the silence. She had waited to say those words for months. Wanted back into the fold, back to find some sort of happiness she had lost when she left. 

He smirked, lighting a fat cigar, “Back in what, doll? I don’t remember you, so can’t be one of my whores. If you need drugs just say so. I can hook you up.” A long smirk danced across his face, “For a price.” 

Red air quickly encased his throat, stopping the smoke in his windpipe. “I am not some whore you have forgotten. I want back into Hydra.” He fell to the floor, coughing and searching for a breath. “Don’t we all. Those were the days, living the high life back then,” he rose to his knees slowly then to his feet with his cigar lost to the floor. “Hydra’s dead. All the heads died, all the doctors too. Strucker, Lists, even Whitehall. They tried to make a come back, Gideon Malick lead some kind of alien force, but he died too. Had some guy rebuilding, but once he disappeared it all crumbled again. Welcome to Rome, darling!” 

Her head swam with the information. No one! Of all those that had been apart of such a mighty organization, nothing was left. No. “If you know this information, then there must be some way of communicating with others. You can rebuild.” There had to be some fragment left of what once was. This is what Captain America fought against and almost lost to. This! Petty crime and underhanded dealings in small joints across the world. 

He shook his head slowly, “Just a few of the boys talking every once in awhile. Some got wind and wanted to join. Nothing connected anymore. Hell, if you want back into an organization just pick one!” He circled the desk, his back to her. “Hydra fell, AIM lost it after Killian died, hell even Hammer’s followers flew the coop after he got arrested. We’re all broken! So much so that the ‘heroes’ have resulted to fighting one another to keep themselves occupied. This is all that is left. Whores, drugs, and small crime.”

She found herself perched in one of the chairs, pondering on what to do now. She spent months looking for a way in. Looking for some reminder of what use to be. Something to take her back to her happier times. A time when Pietro was still alive and they were doing what they had always wanted, getting beautiful revenge. It had been…good to say the least. They had become more than they ever thought they could, when they joined Hydra. While most saw them as villains back then, they had been the heroes of their own story. Protecting home, avenging the dead, more powerful than ever. All of that was lost when Avengers got involved. 

The glass against her temple was a momentary shock. The large Irish man stood offering her a few fingers of scotch. She nodded her thanks. “You’re powered, obviously, so why do you want back into the fold? Couldn’t you do just as well on your own?” He found the edge of the desk to wait for her answer.

The silence drug on, until she finished her drink then spoke, “I wanted back because I was my happiest here. They changed me, helped me come into this.” Red flickered around her fingers, weaving like fire through the air, “They changed my brother and gave us a good life. We were helping our people, mostly Pietro. We were finally doing what we said we always would and it felt...great. Hydra wasn’t all bad, they were just an organization like any other. Fighting and trying for what they believed in, even if some thought it was backwards. There were good people, people with families and children. People like any other faction. It wasn’t all bad.” 

He nodded along, he agreed however for different reasons. His times of good fortune weren’t because of things so happy, his were because crime was high and he ran a kingdom. “You could do what everyone seems to do now a days. Terrorized some part of New York, got several out there. Maybe pick a different city, terrorize the whole thing. That seems to be the latest villain calling.” She whipped at her nose, slightly red from the alcohol flowing through her systems, “Thank you, but it's not the same. This was some...last ditch effort to find what had been lost. It was a long shot by any means.” She sat the glass down on the table, rising from the chair, “Thank you for the drink and the advice. Maybe I’ll try AIM.”

The path back out was easier this time, quicker to weave through. The pub still held a heavy crowd full of slightly drunker people trying to forget about their awful, boring lives. Trying to find some part of themselves that might be lost at the bottom of the tequila bottle. From there she escaped into the dead of night, the closest thing she had gotten to real death. Here there wasn’t as many ways to remind herself of all that she had lost. Music continued to play from the small Irish pub, but Wanda was lost into the night. Searching from somewhere to belong again, somewhere that was home. 

 

~~~~~~

 

**3 months earlier**

“In the wake of the superhero Civil War, Tony Stark has not been spotted outside of regular meetings with Secretary of Defence Ross. Leaving many to wonder what has happened to make Iron Man suddenly turn silence in the face of defeat. CEO of Stark Industries Pepper Potts made a statement on behalf of the company last month stating tha-” the screen went black. Steve always shielded away from any news about Tony Stark. He read countless articles and watched numerous videos on the damage done from the war and took in every opinion available on the internet, so there had to be a lot to read. It seemed that’s all he did now that Bucky was in the chamber. He huddled himself away from the team, him even being out in the open sitting room given to them from T’Challa was rare. 

No one spoke about how distant he had become, he had found and lost so much in the few short days of the war. Each member seemed to hermit themselves to sit back and lick their wounds and collect themselves. Tony always had this way of reaching out to each member and helping them, a secret ability to worm his way into their hearts and take away a bit of the pain. Sometimes it was building upgrades for them, lower the chances of a situation ever getting out of hand again. Sometimes it was a cup of tea or a hard drink and a shoulder to lean on. The great Iron Man was a protector if Ultron had shown them anything. Tony Stark wanted to help other and make things better for them, Tony was team mom and in a way Steve was too. That’s what made them such a good pair. They worked well together, always putting the team first unless it came to one another. Without Tony there, the dynamics were off. Tony was the ghost that haunted, an air of what should have been following each person. 

So, when Steve started avoiding everything that had to do with his co-captain, with his lover, with his friend, the shattered team didn’t push. To hear his name was hard for all of them, but none of them was ever to close as Tony as they thought Steve was. They understood the look of guilt that appeared on Steve’s face before it was hidden away behind a mask when someone mentioned Tony. None of them knew what happened in Siberia after they were captured. Steve didn’t talk about it and Bucky didn’t say much before he was cryoed. A missing shield and a dismantled arm were the only giveaways about the fight. Of course it would be Natasha that first let the curiosity eat away at her enough to make her ask after another blank screen.

“Steve, what happened in Siberia?” Her words were soft like speaking to a child, but because it was Natasha it left no room to go unanswered. 

His response was quick and rehearsed, something repeated to himself a million times already, “There was a fight, Nat.” 

She shook her head, “You know that’s not what I mean. What happened to make you look gutted every time you hear his name?”

“Nat, don’t start on this-”

“If we are going to be on your side, fight for your team, then you owe us enough to tell us what we are fighting for, Steve.”

Everyone was there, listening to the conversation. Ears leaning in to finally have an answer to a burning question. What made their fearless leader scared? What made this statue of justice and virtue and every founding principle of goodness have regrets? What happened to them? Steve looked around and knew, he knew he had to tell them. There was no room to lie or skip parts of the truth, maybe it would be better if he got this off his chest. No longer hiding. 

So, he told them. Every detail that happened. How they had gotten there and found Tony, how they quickly worked together again like nothing had happened, then how Zemo ripped them apart. He told them each detail of the snowy battle that ensued, how Tony got a good shot at Bucky’s arm and how Steve finally stopped him with a vibranium shield to a vulnerable chest, and atlast how it ended. 

Each face held emotions, mixtures of disgust, hated, sadness, regret, revenge, everything under the sun. “Someone say something,” he was exhausted now. The pregnant silence was drowning him in the room. 

“Was he ok when you left,” Natasha is the first to speak. Of course it would be Natasha looking out for Tony, always protecting him. 

Steve shook his head, rubbing at his mouth, “I don’t know. He was still talking when we left him, so I assume yes.” 

“If he wasn’t talking when you left, would you have went back and checked? If he has just sat there motionless and quiet would you have went to see if you caved in his chest?”

This stoped Steve. Would he? In that moment did he have any regard for Tony’s well being? All he could remember was thinking he had to get Bucky away from Tony. He had disabled the arc reactor, but he had no idea if Tony had any more tricks in the armor. “No.” Always be honest with your team, Phillips told him that. 

Disgust filled Natasha’s usual blank face, she’s letting it all show or she just doesn’t care. “He was going after Bucky, Nat. He had ever intention of killing him, I only ever wanted to stop Tony from doing just that.”

“Yeah, even if you killed him. This wasn’t about the Accords, no this was about you getting Bucky back. This wasn’t about doing what is right, about not shifting the blame. This was about you. You getting what you wanted. Do you not see how many lives you disrupted for this selfish game? Clint, when was the last time you talked to Laura?” She’s standing now, facing Clint off to the side.

He is stunned for a moment, before he gathers his thoughts enough to speak, “She answered the phone once when we got here and hung up after she heard it was me. Haven’t talked to her since, or the kids.” 

“What about you Scott, your daughter?” 

He is quicker to reply than Clint, more prepared to be called out, “I’ve gotten about two updates from Hope on Cassie. Hard to get in contact with Hope, Ross has her and Hank being watched. Cassie too.” 

Steve hung his head, shoulders stiff, “I am really sorry to you both, to you all. I am honestly sorry, but you all knew what you were getting into. That this wasn’t going to be easy and that we weren’t going to come out on top.”

“What about Rhodes? He’s paralyzed now, from the waist down. He’ll never walk again. What about him Steve?” Sam’s voice came from the back, low and hurt. 

“He was fighting in a war, he knew the possibilities. We all know the possibilities when we put on the suit and decide to go out into battle.” 

The silence was back, heavy in the room. The tension weaved in between the occupants, everyone searching for words, searching for something to hold on to. 

“Wanda, you’re being quiet. Anything you want to add?” Natasha prodded. 

She took in a deep breath, then let the words slowly spill out like blood seeping from open wounds, “Do you know his greatest fear? Did he ever tell any of you what I made him see?” Negative response all around. “He was scared to loose the Avengers, scared that he couldn’t protect everyone, scared that he wasn’t enough.” 

“That explains Ultron,” Clint pipes up. 

“I showed him all of you dead, the wormhole still open and the Chitauri coming after Earth. He knelt down next to you Steve and you had enough breath to remind him that he wasn’t enough, that he could have done more. I took those words from his father about him and gave them to you. That is how I broke him.” 

Sickness fell among the crowd, Natasha looked the worst. She had been with him the longest of them all, seen him at his low when he thought he was dying from palladium poisoning. She had been the one on his side, fighting the good fight with him. Now, she betrayed him too. 

“He would probably hate me for telling you all that, but not much more than he already does. I hated him, I wanted him dead. I wanted him to feel the pain I felt when his bomb took away my parents. I forgot that his had been taken from him too. I can sympathize with him though, he went after Bucky like I went after him. He resented his father so much for taking his mother away from him, he blamed Howard. Like how I blamed him for my parent’s death. Then he found that all that anger and hate was misguided, like I did. I should have hated Stane and he should have hated Bucky. I’m sorry Steve, but I can’t hate him for going after Bucky. If roles were reversed I would have done the same.” 

Steve nodded slowly, “I understand. I can’t make myself hate him after all of this either, but he wasn’t right either. The Accords don’t protect people, they are another layer of government supervision that we would have to fight through. The World Security Council wanted to blow up part of New York. SHIELD was dirty too, filled to the brim with Hydra. Government intervention isn’t the way to protect people, just protect people’s asses.” 

“Yeah, but this fight wasn’t about the Accords. It was about you getting Bucky back.” Sam confessed. He spoke what everyone was thinking, words hard to say. “While I don’t agree with the Accords, I don’t agree with the reason we were fighting either.” 

“Sam,” Steve breathed his name in defeat. The person he always thought was going to be on his side and he wasn’t. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you all forgetting that he was brainwashed by Hydra? He was made to do things that he didn’t want. You all should understand that.” Steve looked at Clint and Natasha, mostly Clint. 

Clint balled his hands up in fists, “Yes, Loki took control of my mind and made me kill innocent people. He used me to cause havoc, but acting like that never happened wasn’t going to fix me. I wasn’t the same after that, Steve. I had nightmares that somehow Loki was still in my head and I feel bad for Bucky since Hydra is still in his, but he isn’t the same person anymore. He isn’t the same guy that fell off the train in the ‘40’s.”

Steve’s expression went bleak, grim even, “I know, Clint, I know.” 

Clint rolled his eyes, “I’m glad you know that then, but call me when you actually start believing it. I’m going to see if my wife even open the door for me anymore.” He went to stalk out the room, to pack his bags. 

“Clint, they are hunting for you. Tony knows where the farm is, Ross may be there. It's not safe.” 

“Well, I’d rather try my luck than sit around here waiting for the next world altering event.” He left the room.

“Someone has to check on Tony, make sure he isn’t dead,” Natasha turned to go. Steve wanted to stop her, to protect her from what might be waiting in the shadows. The words were stuck in his throat, right on the tip of his tongue; but he knew that trying to get her back would be futile and result in nothing. Someone needed to protect Tony, anyway. 

Steve looked at the remaining three in the room. Wanda, Scott, and Sam were in various position around the living quarters. Sam was leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, arms crossed against his chest. Wanda sat in the armchair near the window, a book forgot in her lap. Scott stood like a soldier under Steve gaze, arms behind his back. “Does anyone else want to leave?” 

Wanda placed her mark into the worn down pages of the book long forgotten, then stood. She gave no reason or a destination, she left Steve with only a soft pat to his arm and a quick apology. He nodded his understanding as she left the room to gather her few things. Steve turned to Scott and Sam, assuming since they stayed that they planned on staying. 

Sam spoke first, “I told you I would stay with you no matter what, not going to change that now.” Scott added afterward, “There is nothing I can do to get near Cassie without hurting her, might as well try to do some good while I try to find a way.” Steve nodded, “Thank you.” He returned to his place on the couch, a formal ending to the conversation. Both men glanced at one another and left Steve alone with his thoughts. 

 

~~~~~

 

Children’s laughter ascended towards the sky, free and open to disperse as it likes in the open park. Parents watched the lights of their lives run around with the energy and joy of youth, playing games only understood with imagination long forgotten by the sands of time. Runners went past, earphones ensuring that they go undisturbed in their zeal to finish while dog walkers took much lighter paces around the concrete loop of the park. 

Wanda sat on a bench close to the playground, but shaded by a tree. The position afforded her insight to the park’s main entrance and an easy escape route if trouble found its way into the peaceful scene. Fear could and would eat away at someone’s mind, consuming all their thoughts and actions; Wanda’s was ruining the euphoria that radiated from her surroundings. Ross would stop at nothing to take her in, she knew, and he would have no regard for the family that he endangered while doing so. The job of protecting these happy people fell on Wanda’s shoulders. 

Her literature selection came from an internet list of books “That Everyone Should Read Before 30.” This one was by a Russian writer and the storyline about conflicting ideas between a natural instinct and society’s expectations. How fitting, she thought, when she saw it was next on the list. Living on the run didn’t allow for many pastimes, but reading was one she could do anywhere and usually was a good cover. Most people wouldn’t bother someone reading unless it was necessary. Usually. The burner’s ringtone was so unfamiliar she almost didn’t notice it was her own purse sounding until several walkers glared at her for not answering. 

Her books was in the bag and she was fast-paced walking away from the park before she answered. “If you are coming after me, spare the park,” her first response. She had put those people at risk by even being there, so it was up to her alone to see them safely on their day. The chuckle received on the other end made her halt suddenly, “Natasha?” 

“The one and only. Enjoying your book? Wise choice in author, Russian is always better.” 

“I was having a nice time reading, you know. Care to explain why you decided to ruin that?” Wanda continued walking towards a civilian free area, planning for the worst. 

“Can’t a teacher just check up on her student? Your accents are getting better, you almost sound authentically Australian.” The smirk was not seen, but very much understood. 

“Answer my question before I hang up this phone and ditch it, please.” 

The heavy sigh lasted for a few moments before came Natasha’s voice again. “Just wanted to see how life on the run was going? Are you alright? Getting enough to eat? Sleep?” 

This made her pause, what brought this on? Did she know something Wanda didn’t? “Yes, I am fine. Life on the run is as shitty as ever. Why?” 

“I just wanted to know if you found what you were searching for? Been everywhere the last few months, some really shady places. Last being that pub in Kilcock, Ireland. Was it there?”

If eyes could roll completely into the back of one’s head, Wanda would have achieved that. “I am no longer an Avenger or any of your concern, Natasha.”

Anger rose into the Russian’s usual calm voice, “You will always be my concern, Wanda. I will always look out for you. I didn’t intervene while you went to every last known Hydra location and a few unknown ones, I didn’t intervene while you ran yourself ragged looking for only God knows what, I never stopped you because it was your choice. Now you’ve stopped and I want to know. Did. You. Find. It?” 

Silence filled the line. Pure, perfect silence rang out between them. Never could no words be so loud, saying more than ever intended. “No,” she breathed out, “I didn’t find it, because it was lost to me a long time ago.” 

The relief was audibly noticeable, quick Russian thanks filled the line, “I’m not sorry to say I am happy about that.” Wanda snorted a laugh, “What that I didn’t find happiness or that I didn’t rejoin Hydra?” “The latter, because I can fix the former. Tony has the Avenger’s compound Ross free. You’re room is still open and Vision looks awfully sad without you here. I mean, as sad as he can look as an android.” 

She shook her head, “I can’t, Nat, I made some pretty awful mistakes. I am better out here on my own. I am good, though. I can survive.” There was scuffle heard on the other end of the line, a ‘gimme’ fight between Natasha and a male voice resulting in static filling her ear for a moment. “Wanda?” male tones filled the line. 

“Hello Tony.” 

“Vision is pouting. I didn’t make him able to pout, you did that with your witchy ability. So now he walks around here pouting and looking all brokenhearted at the spice cabinet, I don’t know why. You break him, you buy him. It will be harder for you to hide a purple skinned floating machine in a building than on the run. Your pick.” Tony ranted into the mouthpiece. 

“Tony, you can’t jus-”

His voice was softer this time, obviously saying things only meant for her ears. “Natasha told me what you said. About me and you, how similar we are. I’m not pissed that you told everyone what you showed me. Alright, a little mad, but I’ll get over it as long as we never discuss it. Ever. I agree with what you said about me. I don’t hate you and I’m glad you don’t hate me either, even if you do harbor some unresolved hurt feelings. I get it, I do. I know what it’s like to push everyone and everything away, because you are the problem. To hide behind your own self disgust than let yourself be happy. I slept with anything on two legs, I drank until I blacked out, and I was the world’s biggest asshole to everyone after my parents died. I was unhappy up until I became Iron Man. I don’t want you to suffer in silence until the moment comes around for you to be happy again. Chase it, Wanda, go find your happiness. Everything we’ve saw was that you were trying to find it with Hydra, but it wasn’t there. Because if it was you’d be there instead of staying on this burner phone in the middle of Sydney, Australia. Come find your happiness.” 

The silence became the norm once again, consuming everything around her. Would she be happy back at the compound? She didn’t know, but one thing she did come to understand was that she wasn’t finding it out in the middle of nowhere. This felt like running, in more ways than one. One day she might be content with her life again, but was content enough to forget about real happiness? Could she one day forget the wave of fulfillment that rushed over her skin, deep into her muscles, and straight to her core that came when she was honestly happy? 

“T-That was all I’ve got, Wanda. Throw me a bone here.”

One accent faded away while her mother tongue returned, “Give me a few hours to gather my things.” Plans were made, location decided upon, and instructions given. Things were gathered, quick shop stops done, Wanda was a ghost to the city. Gone before anyone could ever miss her, she never existed to the city. She was only a by standard in the scheme of forgotten things, never wanting to be remembered. 

The hidden jet landed on the helicopter pad at the compound, precautions were done to ensure that no satellite or camera would see her in the quick walk inside the building. Natasha waited for her at the entrance, Tony too. Natasha was familiar. Her teacher, friend, companion. She was a reminder that not everything changed, some things would always stay the same. Tony stood as a representation of the newness in her life. Where Steve usually stood in the place of team leader, Tony was there giving hugs and comfort that was unexpected. They left her to unpack, her room the exact same, only a few things to add; such as books. 

No one told Vision. Not a peep that she would be there. Her presence as another occupant in the room felt like a ghost. He had imagined her there hundreds of times, seeing her where she was not. This was real though, she stood there in the doorway as a living, breathing body. She was there. “I brought paprika,” the brown paper bag was held out in front, their olive branch. 

His steps were slow, undying fear that she wasn’t real. His imagination wasn’t playing some cruel trick on him. Fingers gently reaching out for substance, something to feel. What he received was arms full of Wanda, her body against his in a breathtaking hug. It rushed against her skin, molded itself to her bones, and filled every empty cavity in her soul. This was happiness. Tied up in a neat bow, everything good in a single moment. Happiness was love.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, we made it to the end! Did you enjoy it? Leave me a kudo! Something I need to change or do better? Tell me in the comments? Have an opinion? Share it with me! If you want something similar to this story, please check out my other story titled, "When The Dust Settles, Who Will Be Standing With Me?" This originally was going to be a possible sequel, but it took on a storyline all on its own. So, give it a check out if you like this one! Have a great day and props to anyone that can name the book that Wanda is reading!


End file.
